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April 2024 Contest Winners

Congratulations to our April 2024 contest winners!

Spring Fling  was won by Carrie with the poem Spring Fling

04/24 I Was An April Fool was won by Geezer with the poem Fooled Again...

04/24 Waiting In Line was won by  Mary Beth Magee  with the poem The Last Time

04/24 Are We There Yet?  Was won by Rula with the poem We're Almost There For It

04/24 My Favorite Cookie was won by Leslie with the poem After school treat!

Poetry Month 2024 Imagine Contest Vote

Vote for this month’s image prompt contest winner

Voting ends May 6th 2024.

Vote at the end of this newsletter.

 

Backwards

By: Carrie

G
All the things that I wanna write
C
Have been written
G
All the songs that I wanna sing
D
Have been sung,
G
All the things that I wanna say
C
Have been said before
D A Em G
All the things that I wanna do have been done.

G
I wanna fly a kite
A
At night instead of day,
C
I wanna drive a big old truck
D
The opposite way
G
I wanna laugh when I’m sad,
C
And cry when I’m happy and gay
D A
I wanna do what no one’s done
G
Any other day.

G
I wanna wear all my clothes
A
Wear em all inside out,

C
I wanna be real quiet,
D
When everybody else wants to shout
G
I wanna see the stars
C
When everybody else sees the sun
D
I want my day to end
C G
When everybody else’s has begun.

C D
Wouldn’t it be weird, wouldn’t it be funny and strange
A
If everyone thought like this,
G
Slightly deranged.

 

 

Lost Love

By: Alex Tanner

Should I recall those blissful times
When we like climbing flowers entwined;
Our blossoms scented evenings air
As Love and Lust forsook our cares.

Your laugh was soft and gentle,
A butterflies wings in spring,
Dancing on the sunbeams
Enough to make me sing.

Eyes so bright they sparkled
Diamonds on moonlit snow;
Flashing hither and thither
To make my pulse race so.

We held each other gentle
Yet tight so not to break,
Though deep, our love could never last,
Different paths our lives would take.

For fleeting months we tarried,
Each time we met we knew
This may be the last time
For lovers hours are few.

If I love ten thousand women
Tis you I will recall;
You gave yourself so willing,
For your passion I did fall.

On black nights as the wind howls,
As I lie in a bed so cold,
Your soft voice echoes 'cross the years
To warm my lonely soul.

                                                                                                                                         

Vote Here

Thank you for your participation.

This week the Neopoem is

 

 Whistle Stop Grove by Izzi Reinier

 

Let us congratulate Izzi Reinier on his first contest win as a neopoet member.

The stream (all workshops)

This is the stream - you can see all poems on Neopoet, live, as they are created.

 

The Journey

I hate this, I scolded my subconscious mind
This sense of detachment from reality, feeling hopeless
For the first time, I am not in control, powerless
After a few minutes of negativity and wallowing in self-pity
I told myself : Get over yourself, It’s not worth it

I took a deep breath

I took an imaginary ride to my inner self
A place I always go, that corner in the depths of my being
My heart and its quiet desperation for freedom, to live beyond conventionalism
Does not help either

No corruption in our bones

In piss and shit and filth we grovel deep
Our masters grin so smugly at our plight
So helpless we abase ourselves in sleep
Yet knowing that there is a way to fight

On Wall Street and each other sign of wealth
Our presence can’t be lied away as mad
There is no longer any need for stealth
The fight is a political jihad

No mercy for corrupt and greedy pricks
Their time has come and changes start to show
we will not fall for trickle down’s last tricks
the bosses will be struck a deadly blow

The Centre

The I at the centre of my universe
is mentally, physically so unaware
that multiple sentience, widely diverse
with manifold centres of I's, with me share

through various insights accorded to all
the wonders of manifest here for the soul
The better for digest and easy recall
the singular works are removed from the whole

The entire universe splintered and vibrant
decoded by infinite angles of view
examined by limitless sense, endless agents
and never one single I really accrues

MERCY

We have become a people who turn their
Backs on their own in need
Beggars' they are, pay them no heed

Even the animals have more compassion
Why should we bother if no one's there
to hear their cries of hunger and fear?

If you listen closely, you will hear
the sounds of a dying society
We are reaching the point of calamity

Remember well that mercy shown shall be mercy owned
Take care, take care

C R A C K E R .. J A C K E D

hump the kisses
the cream you butter
from rancid dreams

and that snarl pulled
like Lucifers loose button
at your crotch

steamy metaphors shoving
limbed wheeled tracks
all those whom became
ghosts

swallow your fucking pride you
pointing the automatic
against my temple
how I worshipped
the cracker jack treat
the brokeness under the
heel of night

Don't die on me

I don’t ask for much,
I really don’t
But know I ask that you don’t die on me,

Because I haven’t spent my life or my words
Making you worry about me,
So please don’t make me worry about you,

It wouldn’t be fair if I go on and worry about you,

Because if I do,
Then I would have failed you,
I would have let you down,

So please don’t die on me today.

Stan and Anders (Prose Workshop)

I'm way too late to play here, but this is Stan's cold write and my lifeless poem.

MY FAIL

The sweet deceptions.
These lies to my ears.
They tear me open.
And feed my tears.

The mask.
Covered disguise.
Have been the sweet tooth truth. Not the bitter lies.

The vile acidic reflection.
As I peer into the reflected agony. The big or little correction.
Changed the way my mind prospers.

The mortal realization.
The castles of my own failure.
I am my own creation.
While I am also my own deflation.

I am not the round a bout guy.
The bend over and pick it up where it used to lye.

Return to me, oh silent one,
dear friend of yester-year
Proclaim in me
of what you see
and all we've learned to fear

Originally legitimated reasons
of concern
quickly turn into more profound statements
of deterioration learned

Mental stability needs constant repair
causes of disappearing
and fearing
now finally shared

MIST HALLUCINATIONS

The mist hung low, so low that mountains grew
high up in my imagination,
they towered into the sky
and threw their aura far,

I caught a glimpse of snow-white tracts,
of deep dark treed ravines, of balanced boulders,
blossom filled meadows, its slopes diminished
where the cataract, cascades of water,
danced between in cracks of velvet turf,

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